Page 54 of The Hanging Dolls
Her chest deflated. Harborwood had a lot to learn. “Instruct everyone not to shareanydetails with outsiders.”
“Why?”
“Because it encourages copycats.”
Realization crossed his face. “Right. I suppose. None of us thought that way.” His phone trilled, and when he answered Zoe watched the expression on his face change. A fierceness flashedin his eyes and his jaw hung open. “Okay… yeah. I’ll call you back with the team. Sure. Thanks.”
“What happened?”
“The killer messed up,” he said with a satisfied grin. “He left DNA on the rope at Lily’s crime scene.”
THIRTY
Zoe stood at the window of Travis Hunter’s office, her gaze fixed on the bleak, overcast sky. The clouds hung heavy. She sensed there was a storm whipping on the ocean from the early telltale signs of the leaves fluttering in fast winds.
Travis sat at his cluttered desk, his fingers tapping rhythmically on a stack of old case files. His face was bloated and there were dark circles under his eyes. Mindlessly, he began rubbing his wrist, staring off deep into empty space. Zoe hadn’t spent that much time with the chief. But compared to the first day she met him, he had lost a significant amount of weight. The ring he always wore on his wedding finger had come loose. But she also noticed the small signs that he was losing it. Aiden was right. They exchanged a loaded glance.
Scott paced the room, holding his phone. As soon as it buzzed, he tapped the speakerphone button, the crackle of static giving way to a clear, crisp voice.
“Dr. Camden, it’s Scott,” he said, leaning closer to the phone. “I’ve got Chief Hunter, and Agent Zoe Storm and Dr. Aiden Wesley from the FBI here with me. You’re on speaker.”
“Good to hear from you, Scott,” Dr. Camden said. “I’ve got the preliminary results on the ropes from Lily’s crime scene.The analysis took a bit longer than usual; there were some complexities other than the backlog.”
Zoe turned away from the window, her attention sharpening. Complexities wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“What kind of complexities?” Travis asked.
“We ran multiple tests on the ropes,” Dr. Camden explained. “Most of it was inconclusive—too much degradation, environmental contamination, no fingerprints, you know the drill. But one of the ropes, the one with her picture clipped to it, had a small amount of DNA that didn’t belong to Lily.”
Zoe’s pulse quickened. This could be something. “How small are we talking?” she asked, stepping closer to the desk.
“Small enough that we could only get a partial profile,” Dr. Camden replied. “We used a technique called Low-Copy Number analysis, which amplifies the DNA, but it’s risky—sometimes you get artifacts or contamination. This time, though, we were able to confirm one thing.”
Zoe felt a flicker of hope. “And what’s that?”
“It’s male DNA,” Dr. Camden said, “and more specifically, the individual has a mutation in the HFE gene—hereditary hemochromatosis.”
Zoe looked at Aiden, trying to gauge his reaction, but he just shrugged. “Hereditary hemochromatosis?” she repeated, the term ringing a bell. “That’s the condition where the body absorbs too much iron, right?”
“Exactly,” Dr. Camden said. “It’s relatively common in people of Northern European descent. The mutation we found is on the C282Y allele, which is one of the more typical ones associated with the condition. People with this mutation can accumulate toxic levels of iron over time if left untreated.”
Travis played with his wedding ring. It slipped from his grasp and rolled toward Zoe who picked it up and handed it back to him.
“Any hits on CODIS?” Travis asked.
“We ran it through CODIS, but with only a partial profile it’s like searching with a hand tied behind your back. No hits came up,” Scott said.
Zoe felt the flicker of hope dimming. “Are there any symptoms of this which might help us narrow it down?”
“Symptoms are non-specific like fatigue and joint pain. And for most patients, it will show up later in life when enough iron levels have accumulated.”
Scott hung his head low and rubbed his palms. “Is there any other information you can get from this sample?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Dr. Camden admitted. “The condition affects a significant proportion of the population, especially in regions with a high percentage of people of Northern European ancestry. We can definitively say we are looking at a white male. But with the amount of DNA we have, we couldn’t create a full profile—just enough to identify the condition.”
“Can you rerun the sample and do more tests?” Aiden asked hopefully.
“We can’t do that without risking degradation. If we do then we risk losing the sample altogether. If you make an arrest and this case goes to trial, the defense will be unable to run any tests to verify our findings.”
